


Focus

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-07-31
Updated: 1998-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-20 06:57:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11330790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Scully gets a video tape and finds out shocking news about Mulder.





	Focus

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Focus by Jill

MKRA: yes  
Gossamer: yes   
ATXC: no

Today, I become a woman in the world of slash. Yes, yours truly has written an actual *sex scene* My parents would be proud of me.   
But seriously, reading this could could be very traumatic to young children and probably a lot of other people as well. It's also illegal in some parts. But then again, who knows? You might enjoy it. Experiment;-)  
Chris Carter came up with all the characters contained herein. They reside under the watchful eye of Ten-Thirteen, yadda, yadda, yadda. Rest assured that he would never *dream* of doing anything like *this* to them:)  
The only character CC did not invent is that of Scully's informant. But he's so underdeveloped that Chris could steal him right out from under my nose and I wouldn't realize. He probably already has. <g>  
There are no spoilers per se in this story. However, if you haven't seen the fourth season eps 'Terma' and 'Gethsemane' you either won't understand what I'm talking about, or, if you figure it out (and it's not hard) you won't really be surprised by the episodes when you see them. So, if you've previously viewed them, step right up. If not, you have been warned.  
Many thank yous to many people: all those I've chatted with on IRC, especially B2, Riki (Melanie) and Cathy Lee, all of whom encouraged me to write this in the first place, Laurine for giving me the idea in her beta reading that made this story work, Callisto for pointing out my trademark vagaries, and Karen and Tamra for punctuation, grammar, and spelling corrections, among other invaluable assistance.  
Without further ado, the story.

* * *

Focus  
by Jill

When they'd called her in to identify the body, Scully thought it was the end of the world. Certainly the end of the world she'd lived in for the past four years. It seemed as though everything they'd worked for was thrown away when Mulder committed suicide. Now, knowing what she knew, Scully could only say that Mulder remained dead in her mind, even after what she'd been shown.

When it had happened, she'd gone public, telling them that everything Mulder had discovered was a hoax, that he had been deceived until the end. Perhaps she'd been wrong; she didn't know. But when the anonymous call had come telling her that Mulder was alive and there was proof on tape, Scully had felt more guilt than in all those years of Catholic schooling combined. If Mulder was still alive, she would never be able to make him understand that she'd said what she'd said not in anger, but out of respect for him. That since he'd battled so long and hard for the truth to be known, she *had* to tell them the truth as she saw it. And the knowledge that she'd never be able to tell him the truth about why she felt that way stung like a knife. 

Scully hadn't believed it when the caller asked her if she *really* wanted information about Agent Mulder's whereabouts without knowing its content. "Of course I want the tape," she told the disembodied voice. "I need to know if Agent Mulder is okay." Her heartbeat raced and suddenly all the problems in her life faded into the background. He was alive! She had expected to see him bound, unconscious, beaten. She had expected to see him lying maimed in a hospital somewhere. He always managed to get someone hurt; it was the one thing she'd grown to expect while working with Mulder, the constant that could always be figured into the equation. But now, she reflected, even if Mulder had faked his own death in order to continue his search without her in tow, it would have been kinder than this. Funny how seeing one thing in focus can put something else into perspective. 

The tape arrived at the front door of her apartment, wrapped in the newspaper, as so many leads had been delivered to Mulder while he worked on the X-Files. It was almost enough to make her laugh through her fear. Seemed as though they'd finally switched places. She had woken up early to look for it, but now, oddly enough, she let it sit on her kitchen table while she ate breakfast and prepared for work. 

She'd waited almost a month for this proof to manifest itself, and when the call had come last night telling her it would be there next morning, she had been frantic, waiting all those hours, pacing the length of her living room, wondering just what that man had meant by asking "Do you really want to view this proof, Agent Scully, without first having an idea of its content?" Surely Mulder couldn't be hurt? After worrying for what seemed like an eternity, Scully had fallen into a restless sleep on her couch.

Not used to sleeping in anything but her bed, she'd woken up with a crick in her neck. And now, she was going to work, alone, in a different unit of the FBI. The X-Files had not been formally shut down--there was no need for that when the one remaining agent assigned to the unit had debunked its very reason for existence.

Scully carried the tape with her all day, not wanting to have it stolen from her apartment while she was absent. Yet another behavior inherited from her sojourn as Mulder's partner. Her heart leapt at the thought of him. He was alive! And the proof was on this cassette she was holding.

During her first few hours at work, Scully felt content just to touch it, knowing that the proof was *here* in her hand. But as noon came and went, satisfaction turned to torture. Holding the tape was not enough; she needed to see, to *know* what had happened to him. She was too worked up to go to lunch; instead she opted for the basement. Pacing the narrow hallways, Scully tried to decide what to do. For half a second she considered finding Skinner and asking him to watch with her. The more she considered her contact's words, the more ominous they sounded. After all, if Mulder were in perfect health, why wouldn't he have contacted her himself? Yes, she might need someone to support her if the tape showed him wounded or in pain.

But then she reconsidered. This was hers. The chance to see Mulder before anyone else. Her moment alone. She'd take the cassette to Skinner tomorrow and that settled it.

So when she finally returned home, nothing else mattered. She didn't bother to eat, check her answering machine, or even change clothes. Shutting the curtains against the black night, she turned on her VCR and set the tape up.

There was a long moment of fuzz, and then the images began to appear. A small room; one chair, a bed, a table, a pile of books in the corner. A door which could have been a closet, or an exit. The room, though Spartan, looked clean and neat. But then again, it was hard to tell for sure; the image which flickered across the screen like a still life was terribly out of focus.

It was all very nice but...

Suddenly, Scully realized someone had entered the room. Taken off his coat and moved to sit on the bed, head hanging low in what appeared to be defeat. Leaning in closer, squinting, she saw that it was him. *Mulder* And he was alive. Instinctively, years of medical training came to the fore as she watched him get up, walk to a window, pick up a book, put it down, then pick it back up and return to the bed. Sweet God, he wasn't harmed! Her pulse raced as she watched him move in that way she'd remembered all these months. Maddeningly, because memory was so vague, yet so much more vivid in ways, than the best recording could ever be.

She remembered, of course; the graceful way he had of walking, how he never made an unnecessary movement, how his hair fell boyishly over his forehead, his lips, but memory was no substitute for seeing. The aggravating thing was that she was still operating from memory. The goddamn tape was too blurry for her to see much of anything.

Relief washed irritation away. Mulder was alive and well. There was no doubt in Scully's mind that he would contact her soon, that they wouldn't be separated . And then, maybe, things would work out differently this time, more like they did in her dreams. Scully's pulse thundered in her ears thinking about it. Maybe he'd known. Maybe this was the only way he'd seen...

The more Scully thought, the more it made sense. Mulder had never really shown any emotion (except when talking about one subject, and they both knew he'd been wrong) but surely it wasn't enough to make him suicidal. If she'd been able to keep *her* despair successfully under control, it would never have troubled *him* at all. And she'd never considered that. 

So Mulder would have known faking his death would have hurt her as nothing else could have, but would also have known that once she'd discovered he was alive, it would have healed just as quickly. Even now Scully could feel her anger fading, a far stronger emotion replacing it. Perhaps it'd even been Mulder who sent her the cassette. The concept was not entirely unfathomable. This would be a far easier way of letting her know he was alive than suddenly appearing on her doorstep one morning. Her analytical mind weighed the odds. It was only a matter of seeing things in focus.

Scully turned back to the TV. Suddenly Mulder's head jerked up. Had he heard something? Scully rewound the tape. He *had* heard something, but it was silent in her apartment. On top of the terrible image quality, it seemed there was no sound on the tape. Scully got up from the couch and moved closer to the TV. She was just in time to see another figure join Mulder in the room.

Her pulse had been racing before, but now her blood boiled. It made an interesting combination with the cold fear that had replaced the elation of a few moments ago.

Krycek. 

It took her a moment to recognize him through the haze on her TV screen. 

He stood with his back to the camera, facing Mulder, who made no move toward him. "Mulder! Do *something*!" Scully whispered. That man was so *dangerous* yet Mulder displayed no reaction. Except he didn't seem so tired anymore. If only the resolution was sharp enough for her to see his expression.

Why weren't either of them *doing* anything? Here were two men who had every reason to hate one another, and they just stood, staring. And one of them didn't belong. Krycek had broken into Mulder's hotel room or Mulder had been waiting for Krycek in his... house? Apartment? None of it made any sense; one of them should have been dead by now. Surely Krycek had no reason to want Mulder alive. Mulder had tried to kill Krycek before, why wasn't he now? 

And then Krycek let his jacket slide from his shoulders to the floor, and she understood. Under his thin t-shirt, she could make out the stump which hung in the place of his left arm, severed brutally above the elbow. Mulder would never attack a crippled man, it wasn't in his nature.

There was a rational explanation for that, but what happened next went completely beyond any form of logic. Mulder opened his arms in what appeared to be an invitation. Scully still couldn't make his expression out, but Krycek evidently did. His entire body stiffened, hung in the air for what seemed like eternity, then he was in Mulder's arms, and Mulder was rocking him like a small child. 

He appeared to say something, to which Krycek shook his head in reply. Scully watched Mulder's mouth move, more forcefully this time, and then, finally, the other man nodded. Krycek sank slowly to his knees in front of Mulder. If only she could hear what was being said!

Scully stared as Mulder slipped his arms under Krycek's shoulders and lifted him up a little. Mulder's head bent lower as he watched Krycek fumble at something with his one remaining arm. But she couldn't see exactly what he was doing; the tape was too grainy. What was Mulder's expression? *What was happening*?

A lump rose in her throat as she stared at the blurry screen. Suddenly Mulder's head snapped back, and Scully watched in fascinated horror as Krycek's head began to bob slowly up and down.

*He was having sex with Mulder*

Her Mulder. And he was still there on the screen, head thrown back, exposing that long white throat she'd dreamed of so often. She watched as his lower lip worked, saying something she couldn't hear, then Krycek gazed up at him and nodded. Mulder's hips began to work in a counter-rhythm, and he moved one arm out from under Krycek's right, and wove his fingers through the other man's hair.

Jealousy warred with disgust in Scully's mind. Every now and then, in more unguided moments, she had dreamed about being Mulder's lover. And that he would choose someone like Krycek, who was responsible for the death of her sister, *his* father, and who knew who else, was unfathomable. It turned her stomach.

As minutes dragged by and the cassette played on, a sense of unreality crept over Scully. The haze on the TV screen rivaled that of the one she looked through. Her mind leapt methodically through all the possible explanations: Mulder had been coerced. Mulder *and* Krycek had both been coerced. Or, even more likely, this was another set-up perpetrated by the same men who had given her cancer and misled Mulder for so long. That was it. Only they could create such a revolting scene. Because that was what this was.

And at the same time, it was strangely beautiful. Mulder looked absolutely ecstatic, hair sticking to his forehead, free hand stroking Krycek's face, so gentle. And Krycek held onto Mulder's waist as if it were the only thing keeping him alive.

Krycek pulled back, leaning onto his heels, and whispered something to Mulder. Mulder's answering moan was unmistakable, even through the terribly distorted image, even without sound. He ran both his hands over Krycek's head, smoothing back his hair, tracing his chin, his ear, his brow, before bringing him back onto his knees.

Krycek kissed Mulder slowly, carefully, all the while staring at the other man, and Scully imagined him to be searching Mulder's face. Mulder appeared to be asking something, over and over. Krycek shook his head, again, and went back to tormenting Mulder. He was slower this time, moving gracefully along the other man, teasing him, never quite letting him move toward release. God, he was good at that. She almost empathized with Mulder, whose facial expression hovered uneasily between pain and ecstasy. It was truly incredible. The image seemed to resolve itself into a sharper focus than before. Mulder's eyes were dazed, focusing on the man below him before slipping away into another world. She could see the heave of his stomach as he drove himself forcefully into Krycek's mouth.

And Krycek was ready for him. Receiving Mulder without any discomfort, he continued making love to him. He had increased his speed again, and his rhythm had grown more complex. Scully could see the tension of holding himself upright was making his knees tremble. Mulder was trembling as well, a movement almost imperceptible through the soundbars on the screen, yet there nonetheless. His mouth hung open and he thrust viciously into the other man. It wouldn't be long now...

Mulder lurched, arching his back and gripping Krycek's hair so tightly that the other man's knees were lifted from the floor. He swallowed hard, all the while moaning silently on the screen. His expression as he lifted Krycek to his feet once more was heavenly.

Scully watched as the two men embraced, clinging and caressing one another. Krycek said something and lowered his head onto Mulder's shoulder. Mulder gripped him tighter still before burying his face in Krycek's hair. They were silent for several minutes, content to hold each other. Then Mulder raised his head and, leaning against Krycek's ear, whispered the first words Scully had been able to discern.

"I love you."

As far as anyone knew, Mulder was dead. As far as Scully was concerned, Mulder was dead. And no one else was ever going to see the *proof* on that tape. Through her disgust and pain she began to understood that sometimes things needed to be kept hidden, that evidence sometimes disappeared for good reasons. Scully still didn't know why someone had wanted her to believe what she'd seen was real, but she knew Mulder would never have made those choices. It was all just a matter of keeping things in focus.

FINIS

Jill made this!

Seeing as this is my first bona fide slash, any comments, questions, or general remarks would be greatly appreciated. Please send them to me at Be gentle--it's my first time *g*


End file.
